Title: The River Otter Wish

Words: 1,034

Rating: R

Genres: Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure

Characters: Harry/Ginny, All

Summary: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before?

Author's Note: A twist on a classic. Enjoy and please review!

Prologue

Ginny didn't wait for Ron and Hermione today. She was tired of waiting; to be heard, to be seen, to be noticed and included. With a faded pink towel tucked beneath her arm, she stormed out of The Burrow and its uncomfortably warm kitchen, through the creaky garden gate, and headed towards River Otter where she could, with any luck, finally find peace.

A welcoming breeze blew back the hair sticking to the nape of her sweaty neck. It felt like a thousand degrees out, but she couldn't care less. The River beckoned her, and she smiled, the tense muscles of her jaw loosening at the thought of jumping into its cool, surging waters. She quickened her pace, feet crunching dry grass and weeds. Perhaps she would get a decent ten minutes to herself, to calm her frayed nerves…

It all started a couple of days ago when her family received word that Harry was to arrive at the Burrow sometime tomorrow morning. Her reaction to the news was quick and uninvited: she could not stop her heart from skipping a beat, palms from sweating, and hands from trembling at the thought of seeing him again. It was frustrating. She was over him, she was over him, she was over him… wasn't she?

Guilt stabbed her in the gut as she tried to convince herself to give up on Harry. Why was she bothering with Dean Thomas? Yes, he was a nice enough bloke, definitely attractive, and oh, how it was getting under her brother's skin. But Dean didn't measure up to Harry. He would never measure up to Harry.

She rolled her eyes and sighed to herself. She was leading Dean on. He didn't deserve it. She should write him, tell him she'd been demented when he'd asked her out and she'd jumped at the chance. She shouldn't be with anyone until she was totally, completely, and wholly over Harry Bloody Potter.

Getting over him didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon, though, and neither did attracting his attention. No matter how she dressed, how many boyfriends she had, or how good she was on a broom, Harry would never see her as anything but his best mate's baby sister, as his own sister, probably.

"Ugh," she muttered to herself. "Could there be anything worse?"

At least she could justify calling him a friend now. Ron would just have to learn to share. Before The Department of Mysteries battle and fiasco with the troll Umbridge, they hadn't spent much time together, unless she counted the Chamber of Secrets, which she never did...

Maybe we'll have more to talk about now, she thought optimistically.

Like what, his dead godfather?

Her stomach plunged and she shook her head, dispelling any and all thoughts of Harry and poor Sirius Black.

Dean is a good thing, she reminded herself firmly. He will help me get over Harry.

She scrambled over a mossy fallen tree, maneuvered carefully through sharp brambles, and reached the River Otter a quarter of an hour later, after successfully locking away the idea of being something more than just Harry's friend.

She mechanically smoothed her towel near the base of a shady cypress. This was her absolute favorite spot to relax, high enough on the riverbank to watch for otters and other wildlife without intruding, but low enough to dip her lime green painted toenails into the glimmering water.

She flicked off her sandals, pulled her wand from the pocket of her shorts, and sat unceremoniously on her towel, plunking both feet into the deep river. It was a shock of cold to her overheated feet. She wiggled her toes, grinning at the glittering varnish Tonks had given her for Christmas. She hadn't dared let Mum see it, lest she have it taken away. If it wasn't beige or pink or plain old boring, she wasn't allowed to wear it.

She felt her face heat in anger and tried to calm herself down. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she threw herself into the river without another thought.

She would have squealed if she wasn't underwater. Her head broke the streaming, light waves, and she gasped for air, laughing joyously at the freezing sting her hot skin endured.

"There's only one thing better than this," she said aloud, treading water. "Flying."

She did a few crawls and breaststrokes in the swiftly swelling water before turning easily onto her back and floating slowly, gently downriver. She hummed and sang loudly and a bit unpleasantly, her ears muffled by the water, and hoped no one else was around to hear and cringe over her out of tune rendition of "Magic Works" by The Weird Sisters.

With the sky bright and unblemished by a single cloud, Ginny imagined she was up there instead of down here. Truly, she was surprised her mother and father allowed this at all… not with a war on the horizon.

She stiffened as dread pooled within her. She sank a little before dragging herself into an upright position. It was stupid, wondering when she'd get to take her broom up for a ride, worrying about her fling with Dean Thomas and her unrequited love for Harry Potter. Lives, whole families of Muggles and Wizards alike, were being destroyed. There were greater, more important things to think about.

She dug her feet into the sand and rocks, gripping them with her toes, and searched the riverbank for her towel. She spotted it about six meters down and decided she would swim a bit further before turning back.

Looking down the long and winding River Otter, Ginny said childishly, miserably, unthinkingly, "I wish I could swim away forever."

Something slimy clasped her ankle and tugged. A shriek was barely out of her mouth before it filled with water.

She kicked her legs with all her might, fighting the thing that had grabbed hold of her with little success. She was dragged to the deepest part of the river, could tell for her ears popped at the pressure. The oxygen in her lungs was scarce and would be used up in seconds; they were burning already for air.

She never imagined she would die this way…